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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26103052">Lunch Break</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranberrytaboo/pseuds/Cranberrytaboo'>Cranberrytaboo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, canon-typical trauma, mention of dismemberment but its not graphic, talking it out, technically the same au as the other where its not just agame, theres a little bit of hinting of frenrey but it isnt developed quiiite yet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:27:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26103052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranberrytaboo/pseuds/Cranberrytaboo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Coomer notices that Gordon needs to talk to somebody and makes himself available.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lunch Break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon was overworking himself. </p>

<p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was a bad habit, but one he often resorted to when he was plagued with things he didn't want to focus on. Coming down from a traumatic experience? Better take on every task that work throws our way. Anxious about maintaining custody of our son? Let's go back and see if there's anything in our Doctorate thesis that we could have written better. Having nightmares? Well, maybe if we push ourselves to the brink of passing out with exhaustion, we'll be too tired to dream. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>After the Resonance Cascade and the following fallout, Gordon was finding it difficult to get back into a proper routine. Thus, he once again decided to simply push himself to his limit, focusing on everything else that wasn't what had just happened. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In his mind, it was working. He could go into work in the morning, greet everyone, immediately set to whatever task he'd been assigned, or had assigned himself. He would take a fifteen minute lunch break (thirty if he was feeling particularly confident) before going back to it and working overtime. On the weekends, he spent most of the time with Joshua, staying up after the young boy had gone to bed and checking in on him almost obsessively, as if the kid were going to disappear at a moment's notice. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Anyone else could have seen the signs that it was not, in fact, working. The creases under his eyes grew darker and more pronounced, there were threads of silver coursing through his auburn hair, and he looked utterly miserable any moment he wasn't putting on a face for everyone. And Dr. Coomer had had just about enough of seeing that side of Gordon, thank you. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thus, it was a hearty "Hello, Gordon!" That had the younger physicist nearly jump out of his chair, where he had begun to nod off at his desk. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hi! Dr. Coomer!" Gordon strained. It was habit, at this point, to respond to Dr. Coomer every time, no matter how often the man reiterated his favored greeting. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Gordon, if you aren't too busy, I was wondering if you'd like to go have lunch together." Coomer smiled, his kind eyes crinkling. "It'd be nice to get the chance to talk to you outside of the context of our work, you know." </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon winced. It <em>had</em> been a while since he'd sat down and just talked to Dr. Coomer, about anything that didn't have to do with physics, theoretical or otherwise. A part of him felt guilty; had he been neglecting his relationships with the Science Team? "Uh, sure. That sounds nice. Why not?" </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Then it's settled!" Dr. Coomer clapped his hands together and grinned pleasantly. "Come along then." He reached out, grabbing Gordon by the shoulders and forcing him to rise without any apparent effort. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Dr. Coomer-- Jesus-- alright, I'm up." Gordon was mostly used to Dr. Coomer's displays of strength, but it would be a lie to say it didn't still baffle him sometimes. How old was Coomer again, anyway? He pulled his lunch from his desk and looked at Coomer expectantly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In response, Coomer simply hummed, folding his arms behind his back before heading towards Black Mesa's outdoor dining area, humming as if he were having a lovely stroll through the park.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon followed, lagging slightly behind Dr. Coomer's calm but brisk pace. Glancing from side to side, he took in the area around as they passed. Remarkably, much of the damage of the Resonance Cascade had already been undone, in regards to infrastructure. As for the issue of word getting out about what really happened, it was surely a matter of winks, nudges, and promises of wealth slipped furtively under shared tables. A pre-incident Gordon may have been indignant and appalled by the placing of money over human lives, but in the present, he was too jaded to comment. Business as usual, the show must go on, yadda yadda yadda.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dr. Coomer seemed to hem and haw for a moment about where they could sit before choosing a fairly secluded table near the cliff face. Gordon hesitated (don't think about the time you nearly fell to your death and only survived thanks to Coomer) before joining him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dr. Coomer frowned slightly as Gordon pulled his lunch out of a boating-themed lunchbox (he'd initially bought it for carrying around snacks for Joshua, and Joshie himself had been on a boat kick lately.) Gordon assumed the childish pattern was the issue. "It's-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Gordon, I don't want to alarm you," Coomer interrupted, "but a peanut butter sandwich and a handful of orange slices hardly constitutes a nutritious meal for a grown man." </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh." Gordon scratched the back of his neck. "Don't- dont worry about it, Dr. Coomer. I get enough veggies, promise." He was loathe to admit that just being at Black Mesa killed his appetite.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Coomer pursed his lips with a terse hum, clearly unconvinced. "Gordon, I must say you've been worrying me greatly as of late!" </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Desperate for an out, Gordon took a long sip from the juice box he packed (thank you, Josh, I'll buy more before you arrive on Friday). "You don't have to worry. I'm fine."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're most certainly not." Coomer shook his head. "You keep falling asleep at your desk, you look positively miserable, your eye bags have eye bags!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon lightly tapped under his eyes, a bit self-conscious. "They're that bad?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Frustrated, Coomer waved his hand. "That isn't the point, Gordon. I want to talk about what happened."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I don't." Gordon returned, plainly. He wasn't trying to be harsh, just firm. He truly believed that this wasn't what he needed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>However, Coomer firmly believed it was, and nothing had stopped Coomer from going against Gordon's wishes before. "Well, we're going to talk about it." </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In an attempt to be reassuring, Dr. Coomer reached out, resting a hand lightly against Gordon's wrist. On instinct, Gordon jolted and pulled his arm back, quickly. The look on Dr. Coomer's face was unreadable for a moment, and Gordon felt anxiety and guilt well up in his gut.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Finally, Dr. Coomer's expression settled on a blend of exhaustion and stoic sorrow. "Gordon, I am truly sorry about the things you went through back there. It is really very sad. It had to happen, but..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Did it..?!" Gordon had to fight hard to quell the indignation in his chest. "Did it?" He repeated, fixing his tone. He glanced at his arm. He tried not to focus on it. Sure, by some odd blend of cosmic powers, the G-man (otherwise known as Mr. Coolatta) had re-attached Gordon's severed arm.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was not seamless by any means. The point of re-attachment was ringed by a scar that radiated outward at several points, like some artistic configuration of a sun. Then, there was the pain. Gordon had experienced enough pain without his arm, but even with it back, it would ache and throb, sometimes violently enough to wake him at night, leaving him sweating and cursing. Gordon's reiteration was simple. <em>D</em><em>id this really have to happen to me</em>?</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dr. Coomer paused before trying once more to rest a hand on Gordon, now choosing his shoulder. This time, Gordon didn't draw back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Gordon, you can't keep running from what happened. We all went through the Resonance Cascade together. You aren't on your own."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You all-- you all left me on my own!" This time, Gordon couldn't restrain his emotions. "Tommy, I at least kind of get-- Bubby went behind his back and the soldiers tricked him-- but Bubby? And Benrey? And-- and where did you go?!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Gordon, I left you there because I thought it was the best way to ensure everyone else could escape. Of course, I was incorrect. None of those soldiers could, or would, help." Coomer paused, thoughtful. "And what happened with my clones..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon shuddered. Few things in his life had felt as hopeless as being unable to fight back and relying on someone to save him as they were swarmed by hundreds of old men screaming "Hello, Gordon!" </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What was all that about crawling into my severed arm and wearing me like--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Don't worry about all that." Coomer waved a hand. "That is better left in the past. What you need to hear is this. I'm truly sorry for abandoning you and scaring you like that. I know the others feel the same." He paused, looking at Gordon's skeptical expression. "Yes, even Bubby. I know he's a bit of a hardass, but he really does care about you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Right, when he calls me a dumbass, it's in a loving way.</em> A part of Gordon really did believe it, though. A bigger part of him really <em>wanted</em> to believe everything Coomer was saying. It was a hard pill to swallow, but God, he wanted to. To believe that they all really, truly cared about him, that they were worried about him and sorry for the pain they had caused... </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon looked away from Dr. Coomer, not wanting to let the other man see his glasses start to fog as his eyes misted. "Maybe, if they apologize like you did just now, I can buy that."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why Gordon, they already have. In their own ways." Coomer smiled knowingly, chuckling as Gordon hummed in confusion. "I know you're not really upset with Tommy since he helped you out, but... As far as Bubby goes, he's the one who pointed out you weren't eating right to me. He's been paying attention to you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon blinked, genuinely surprised. The stinging feeling in his eyes returned, this time targeting the end of his nose as well. "Bubby... talked to you about it?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dr. Coomer nodded. "He said, and I quote, verbatim, 'that dipshit is gonna starve himself if he keeps eating like that, Coomer, do something about it.'" </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Despite himself, Gordon snorted. That did sound pretty in line with Bubby. "Huh. So the old son of a bitch does care about me after all. I'll have to give him hell for it later."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A warmth filled Coomer's eyes. He paused before responding. "And then, in Benrey's case, well, he's hardly left your side since, hasn't he?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Is that remarkable for him? He generally never left me alone at Black Mesa. Except for when he did." Gordon murmured, almost bitterly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Coomer's smile grew further, appearing nearly smug now in his knowledge. "He goes where he wants, when he wants. And he always goes to you, doesn't he?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon slid a palm against his own face, partially to hide the flush he felt creeping into his cheeks. <em>Stupid! Why would that make you blush? And when was the last time you blushed anyway, Gordon?</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Coomer hummed. "It's evident that he cares for you, and likes you... And that you like him, Gordon."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Had Gordon been drinking anything, he would have spat it out.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Huh?!" He looked at Dr. Coomer as if the man had sprouted a second head.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Now Gordon, what has you so surprised? And so loud?" Coomer blinked innocently. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What makes you think I like Benrey?" Gordon's defensive tone was already betraying him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well, if I recall, during the Incident, you were always asking where he was..." </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The motherfucker was always going<em> off</em> places, and disappearing on us!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And, you always laughed at all his jokes, even the ones he made about you..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"He has no right to be that funny, okay?!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"When he died, you were upset about it, several times."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Anyone would react with distress to watch someone die, especially in some of the fucked up ways Benrey ate it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And he's back, and we've all forgiven him, and you have too, haven't you?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon thought about it. Did he really forgive Benrey? Surely to God the answer couldn't be yes. But when he thought about seeing Benrey amongst the Science Team again, and hearing his voice again, the way he was used to, through all of the complicated emotions and thoughts came an overwhelming sense of relief. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Yeah, maybe Gordon did like Benrey. Dr. Coomer didn't need to know that.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Anyway, Gordon, I believe I have gotten off topic! My point is this. You need a support system. We are willing to be that for you, but you have to be open with us, and let us in." Dr. Coomer nodded as if agreeing with himself. "We care about you very much, Gordon."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I care about you guys too..." Gordon sighed. "I love you, Dr. Coomer." He'd said it many times before, but he never really felt like he could convey enough how much Dr. Coomer meant to him. How much they <em>all </em>meant to him. He could keep trying, and he would. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Gordon? Come here, won't you?" Dr. Coomer patted the spot next to himself on the bench. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordon hesitated a moment before sitting next to Dr. Coomer. After Dr. Coomer put a comforting arm around his shoulder, he hesitated a moment longer before leaning his head against the older man's shoulder, closing his eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And they sat like that for a nice long while. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote Benrey and Tommy hashing out their feelings, and now this. Who next? Bubby and Darnold? Forzen and Sunkist? We shall see. </p>
<p>I hope this is enjoyable to folks -w-</p></blockquote></div></div>
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